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Ledger of Love

In the dim-lit chambers of the Victorian home,
Resides a wife, her heart a silent tome.
Once, love’s flame burned bright within her breast,
But now a thin whisp, a ghostly jest.

Her gaze averts from her husband’s weathered face,
As she tends to her duties with an air of grace.
Yet within her heart, no ember of affection gleams,
For love is forlorn, fading in distant dreams.

She drifts through days with a weighty sigh,
Thoughts consumed by status high.
Townsfolk’s smiles and friends' acclaim,
In their praises, she seeks her name.

Husband: “How have we come to
this place, where duty binds tighter than love’s embrace?”

Her husband’s toil, his labor’s sweat,
She scarcely notices, her eyes are set,
On the status brought by society’s gaze,
His efforts, a thankless, mundane maze.

Her parents’ wishes, her lady friends’ needs,
Before her husband, his heart bleeds.
His sacrifices, his endeavors grand,
Dismissed with a wave of her pretentious hand.

Husband: “My dearest, can you not see?
The toils I endure, the burdens I carry.
For you, for our children, for our home,
I labor tirelessly, yet still I roam.
I yearn for the love we once knew,
For the bond between us, strong and true.
I long for your gaze, your tender touch,
To feel your love again, I miss so much.
I plead with you, my darling wife,
To see me again, to reignite this life,
We once shared, in love’s sweet embrace,
Before duty rends our love, a trace.”

Wife: “Oh, hush now, dear, your words are mere jest,
I’ve duties to attend, an image to uphold, I cannot rest.”

She tends to her looks with meticulous care,
While her husband’s heart withers, a lonely affair.
Her reflection in the mirror, a vision to behold,
While her husband’s spirit grows weary and old.

In the empty caverns of her heart, love’s beat fades,
As her husband’s presence in her life further degrades.
No longer does she cherish, respect, or prize,
The man who once was the apple of her eye.

In the silent halls of their cold Victorian abode,
A love lost, a heart’s once sacred code.
She prioritizes all but the love they once knew,
In lonely heart’s embrace, their bond turns askew.

Husband: “Always at the ledger, tirelessly penning words,
Crafting a façade, where the truth’s song is unheard.
With quill and parchment, in the dim candlelight,
You lose yourself in messages, consumed every night.
My love, why do you pour your heart,
Into letters that tear us apart?
Each word you write, a dagger to my soul,
As you paint a picture of a life we cannot control.”

Wife: “My dear husband, can you not understand,
The pressure I feel from society’s demand?
I must keep up appearances, you see,
For our status, a picture-perfect family.”

Husband: “But my dear, at what cost do we pay,
For this illusion you craft every day?
Your letters speak of opulence and wealth,
But our reality is modest, and the cost, my declining health.”

Wife: “I know, my love, but can’t you see,
The image I create is not just for me?
It’s for our children, for their future bright,
To let them shine in society’s light.”

Husband: “But my heart aches for the love we’ve lost,
For the life we had, at such a cost.
Your pursuit of acceptance, of social acclaim,
Has left our love, but a flickering flame”.

Wife: “My dearest husband, your words, they pierce my heart,
For our love, it has drifted apart.
I’ve chased illusions, and now I see,
The distance that’s grown between you and me.
Oh husband, please try to understand,
I do this for us, for our family’s stand.
But in the quiet of the night, I feel the pain,
Of the love we’ve lost, an intimacy to regain.”

Husband: “My love, let us cast aside
This facade of wealth, and social pride.
For in each other’s arms, we’ll again find worth,
And reclaim our love, that once gave birth”.

Her preoccupation for friends' approval and society’s grace,
Leaves him aimless and adrift in this isolating space.
Heartbroken and burdened, he wanders alone,
In search of a love that he once had as his own.
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